I take one more pass through the house as I mentally tag furniture Adam, my son will need for his new home. He and Tricia, his striking blonde bride of three years will be here shortly to remove the furniture that I no longer use. Everyone is excited about the move. So many thoughts are running through my head. Has my little boy really grown into a man, and is now moving over an hour away? I thought I was a good keeper of time, enjoying Adam's childhood, but it seems I have misplaced a few of his childhood years.

Where has all the time gone? As I near the back patio, I hear the rumble of the u-haul truck as it starts to make its spiral decent down the driveway.Looking out back, I'm reminded of another time long ago. When from a window I had left open, I spied my son, Adam, playing in our swimming pool. He and his buddies played in the pool every day from the coldest days of February, through the hottest days of July, then to crisp days of October. I stood and listen out of sight, much like a nosey neighbor, just wanting to share in his excitement.

He along with his pals, Brian and Chad, would pretend they were swimming with the dolphins in the choppy, blue water of the ocean. The spa became a research vessel for Sea World, and they would seek out specimens for a study. Hours could be spent doing research on the different mammals they caught in the pool. Then there were other times they would hunt for the great white shark. Amazing how quickly a hockey stick could become a harpoon. Occasionally the boys would be naval officers on secret missions, scuba diving in waters on the other side of the world. This was all done under cover because their missions were to rid the world of evil. And still there were more times they played pirates, seeking out a spectacular bounty of dazzling gold, sparkling red rubies, perfectly cut blue sapphires, and brilliant green emeralds. They planned to take the kings ransom and build a baseball stadium in the center of town. A stadium with both the charm of Wrigley Field and the enchantment of the "green monster" fence at Fenway Park. They would name the stadium the "ABC field." Using their initials would insure free season tickets for them and all of their family and friends for years to come. After spending the loot, it was back to the water and off on another adventure.

My favorite experiences happened when they docked their ship, their vessel, or maybe the submarine, and enjoy the grub at the local cafe. There, I played cook, waitress, and chief bottle washer serving the boys the luncheon special. Some days that would be toasted tuna on white, with a side of potato chips, while other days it would be bologna and American cheese, not toasted, served with corn chips. All days the lunches would be accompanied with white chocolate chip cookies, (Adam's favorite) and a brown bottle of root beer, the one that looks like the real stuff. While they enjoyed their hardy lunches, I listen to them tell me the stories of their adventures. That is of course, if the mission wasn't top secret. After a kind "Thank you," and imaginary tip, the boys were back in the water. And I was back to my housework. Those simple days came and went so quickly.

Now as I sit next to the same spa, listening to the music of the water cascading ever so quickly over the smooth rocks of the waterfall, I begin to daydream, again. I think about the days ahead when I will listen to my grandchildren and share in their sea voyages. Nevertheless, I have made a promise to myself, that this time I will not be a spectator. Whether they are following the migration of the whales, the hunting for the great white shark, or they are pegged-legged pirates, you can bet this time, I'll pack the sea rations and accompany them on their journey.

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